


good morning

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter)



Series: Tumblr Ficlet Liferaft [12]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife
Summary: fic foryoukaiyume's art





	good morning

She drifts awake with his hand between her legs and his mouth against her neck and both mouth and hand was slack with sleep.

They weren’t what woke her.

Instead it’s the _twitch twitch_ of his cock as it nestles itself between her asscheeks, dragging a spot of wet on the small of her back. And it _should_ feel dangerous and treacherous and she _should_ want to push him away…

But there’s a small grumbly snuffle and a deep breath, at her nape, and a muttered, “Furiommhfsumm,” that smashes itself against her skin like he can’t be bothered to give his mouth space between them.

His fingers, against her, twitches.

And Furiosa gets _wet_ with it, against them, embarrassingly fast.

“ _Max_.” She says, and can’t figure out what her voice is doing, whether she’s warning him away or encouraging him to continue.

“Mm?” His fingers are stroking small paths now, tiny, twitchy small paths, as if searching for where the slickness came from, but wandering, aimless as if preferring the journey. He snugs up behind her more firmly, as if seeking to press more of their skin together, and his cock’s a hot presence that he seemed delighted to simply use to frot against her ass cheeks. 

When he hums it raises all the hair on her scalp and she could feel the reverberation across her skin. Or maybe that’s a shiver. He’s using two fingers now, still lightly, and something about that makes her heated, makes her desperate. She’s practically squirting against him but Max was all but refusing to give her _any_ friction and it's—

It’s _aggravating_.

Furiosa hooked her left arm around Max’s head, her stronger shoulder, and hauled them both upright, intending to _sit_ on him, and whether cock or face she didn’t much care anymore, except he’d grabbed hold of her waist with his other hand and pushed back trying to hold her and while she moves against him he

just 

tries

to ( _hnng_ —)

destroy her, perhaps, in inches, with mouth and fingers only. His tongue’s finding the places where the brand didn’t touch, nerves that the Citadel didn’t leave numb, skin that was more alive than dead, and Max is sparking them awake, somehow, fingers having slid their way up into her in the meanwhile and it was so frictionless from how she’d been dripping that it was practically _no help at all,_ just a further tease, just barely not enough to clench around and she feels herself fluttering uselessly around them and wanting to _scream_.

Her hand darts down and presses, hard, against his, causing his fingers to press further in, the tips of third and fourth prodding her open more, stretching and sparking and pushing into her, too, as she rides his hand and he moves with her, jerking, and rumbles his pleasure into her skin so loudly that her bones _vibrate_ with it.

Furiosa comes, then, with his hand between her legs and his mouth against her neck.

(‘a good way to wake up’, Max mumbles, as he drinks the wetness from his fingers, and then hers, and then more from between her legs

he needs, she thinks wildly, sightlessly, to stop _humming_

she bites down on her hand)


End file.
